


Unwanted Memories

by lilhawkeye3



Series: Between You & Me [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: AFAB!reader, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Established Relationship, F/M, Healthy Relationships, Light Bondage, Past Sexual Assault, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Jango Fett, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:26:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29907300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilhawkeye3/pseuds/lilhawkeye3
Summary: Jango wants to show you his appreciation after you save him on a job, but there's something haunting you that returns at the worst moment.
Relationships: Jango Fett/Reader
Series: Between You & Me [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2196294
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Unwanted Memories

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a new series I'm doing called "After Dark" that centers around dark or uncomfortable themes in regards to sex, however this is also the same Reader character as with my other Jango fics. "Bits and Pieces" is the unofficial first installment of After Dark, and each piece will feature different characters and warnings. Please read the warnings beforehand, and don't feel obligated to read something that may be a squick or trigger for you.
> 
> Prompt: You experience PTSD over a past sexual assault while getting intimate with Jango.
> 
> Warnings: afab!Reader, mentions of sexual assault with a drugged drink (not detailed), panic attack, light smut between reader and Jango, near death experience for Jango, restraints.

You don’t know what’s gotten into him tonight– but at the same time, you do. You’d seen the way that Jango’s eyes had widened when you landed the head shot that took out the Rodian that had him in a headlock, blaster leveled at his temple. A fire had alit in his dark eyes while he watched you saunter towards him, and when you paused to lightly grip his chin and tilt his head to ensure he was uninjured, the rumble in chest only promised more once the job was done.

He was making good on that promise now. The moment you’d returned to the ship and double-checked for any injuries, Jango pushed you up against the wall and kissed you senseless, sending your head reeling as you gasped into his mouth while your fingers scrambled to hold him closer to you.

He isn’t patient tonight. His hands pry your armorweave vest open first before yanking your shirt out of where it’s tucked into your cargo pants, sliding his still gloved hands underneath the fabric to brush hungrily against your chest. You arch into his touch once he reaches your breasts and trail your mouth down to his neck to suck your own mark above his racing pulse point. The low growl he makes has heat pooling between your legs.

“Know how gorgeous you looked, standing there, pointing a gun my way?” He groans, one hand retreating from beneath your shirt to grab your ass and guide you to straddle his armored thigh. You reflexively rock your hips against him, eyes fluttering shut in response to the jolts of pleasure that race up your spine with each stroke. “Could’ve died happy with a view like that.”

“But if you’d died–” you pant raggedly, words eluding you as you press down harder against his leg, “you wouldn’t get to see me cum on your cock.”

Jango practically growls at your teasing statement. “Fuck,  _ cyare _ , is that what you want?” 

He jerks his thigh out from under you, something that leaves you crying out in frustration. But before you can register what’s going on, his hands have moved so that one grips your waist and has you spinning around so your chest presses against the metal wall while his other hand pins both of your wrists above your head. 

Your eyes go wide at the lightning change in positioning, and you instinctively pull down against his hand, struggling futilely against his iron-clad hold on you. Your breath becomes quick and shallow in your lungs as you realize you’re trapped between the Mandalorian and the wall, unable to see what’s going on or move to have any semblance of control.

His other hand has left your waist and moved south to your waistband, and in your panic, you don’t take notice until his still-gloved fingers slip into your cargo pants and follow the curve of your ass towards your pussy… just like that other man had in the darkened corner of that Corellian cantina, when you’d been less skilled and more naive, and the world had blurred before your eyes and left you unable to fight him off–

But you can fight now.

So you fight.

Your shriek of “no!” is loud and echoes in your ears, making you hope that someone has heard your protests this time, that you won’t be left alone to suffer the same fate. The man’s fingers are still locked around your wrists, but his hold rapidly loosens after you kick your heeled boots back into him. The shift is enough to give you leverage to pull your wrists down and out through the weak point of his thumb in one quick motion.

The presence behind you rapidly backs away as you spin around while reaching for your blaster, chest heaving and blood rushing through your ears as adrenaline courses through you. There are tears streaming down your face that you don’t notice until they drip onto your lips, the surprise stimulus enough to take the edge off your fight-or-flight response and fully realize where you are.

Jango is watching you with clear shock, hands held up and at either side to show he’s unarmed and not trying to restrain you or box you in. Even despite the slight distortion, you can tell that you look like a spooked animal after you glance down and catch your reflection in his chest plate.

“Cyare?” He asks softly, and something inside you breaks.

That word has always meant you are safe. It’s always meant you are treasured. It brings you a peace that not even your own name can grant you anymore. That monster in the Corellian bar stole your name, but here, when you are  _ cyare  _ or  _ mesh’la  _ or Jango’s  _ kar’ta…  _ you are safe. You are equally protector and protected.

And now, you’ve hurt what you care about most.

You sluggishly look down at your shaking hands to find blood trickling from scratches your nails dug into your palms. They leave red streaks against your skin, just like… just like what had been left behind by that monster.

You dazedly glance back up at Jango– and then you bolt from the ship’s hull.

To his credit, he doesn’t call after you as you race into his quarters and lock the door behind you. It is safe here.

Your gaze darts around as your chest tightens with every passing breath. You can’t be in your clothes right now. They’re too tight, too restrictive against your burning flesh. A broken sob tears from your throat as you rip the clothing off, not caring what clasps might break in the process. You need out.

You quickly clock Jango’s bed as the safest place for you to retreat to. It is where you keep the nightmares away from each other when you sleep. It is where he first said he loved you, where you first admitted you love him. It is a haven from the rest of the universe.

His sleep shirt is left haphazardly on the otherwise pristine blankets from last night. You don’t want to look at your body; you’re too afraid you’ll still see the bruises that man had tarnished you with, even long after they’ve faded. Slipping Jango’s shirt over your head and feeling it rest against your skin is the first thing to get you to settle, and relief settles in your body as your breathing loses its panicked edge.

You bury yourself under the blankets to hide from it all. The world becomes a dark, warm cocoon as the heavy blankets settle over you and help ground you. You’re wrapped in Jango’s scent, which furthers the feeling of home and safety. The pounding in your ears finally dies down and the airflow in your lungs finally returns to a normal rate.

But with this clarity comes the harsh realization of what you’ve done: you fought Jango.  _ Did you hurt him? Is he angry with you? _ Your eyes shut tightly as all the possible outcomes roll through your mind.  _ What if he kicks you off his ship? What if he doesn’t love you anymore? _

Your downward spiral is snapped by a tentative knocking on the door. “ _ Cyare _ ? Are you there?” There’s a long pause, and you think he’s trying to hear for any movement from within the room. “I won’t come in, just… let me know you’re still with me.”

Tears flood back to your eyes in the aftermath of his words. He didn’t want to force his way into the space you’ve found safe haven in. He was worried about you.

You could do this. You owed at least this to him.

“Jango?” You pitch your voice loud enough to be heard through the sealed door, hoping that he’s listening closely so that once is sufficient. It must be, since the door opens almost immediately after you speak. Jango looms in the doorway clad in his underclothes, concern openly etched onto his face even before he spots you amongst the nest of blankets.

“ _ Cyare… _ ” He starts to take a step forward but stops abruptly, like there’s a pressure triggered trap underneath his foot. “Are you alright with me coming in?” He approaches slowly at your weak nod. “Are you hurt?”

You hiccup and shake your head. “No, you didn’t hurt me.”

“That’s not a full answer,” he points out gently. “I can tell you’re hurting, _ner_ _ kar’ta _ .”

“I…” You bring your hands up to cover your mouth for a moment, trying to keep your whimpers trapped within you. “I thought I was okay. I haven’t thought of it in so long, but– but that positioning, that’s what he made me do, and there was something in my drink so I couldn’t fight back…!” You dissolve into tears as it all becomes too much for you to hold back with your dam, and your hands reach out in a silent plea for Jango to save you from the flood. His arms are around you within seconds, lifting you up and sliding you over so he can join you in your blanket pile. He moves you so you lay across him, your head cradled against his heart and your legs slotted between his. This has you crying harder: he’s placed you on top of him so you won’t feel trapped.

His hand rubs across your back in silence until your sobs subside into hiccups again. “Do you feel up to talking about it?” Jango asks, breaking the silence. “Or would you rather a distraction?”

You let his offer tumble around in your head as you consider it. You don’t know if anyone’s ever asked either before. It kindles a warm feeling under your ribs that spreads down to your fingers and toes as you press closer into him.

“I don’t remember his face,” you admit ashamedly. “Someone put something in my rum, I think it may have been the bartender.” You can feel him tense beneath you, but he stays silent and allows you to continue your story. “That m– monster pinned me up against the wall in the back corner, it was dark and loud so no one noticed… or maybe they didn’t want to,” you bitterly add. “And he… he…”

Jango hushes you tenderly as you begin to tremble. “You’re safe now,  _ cyare _ . He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you–”

“You did nothing wrong,” he assures you. “You felt threatened and fought back. I’m proud of you,  _ mesh’la _ .”

You sniffle, rubbing your face against the sleeve of his shirt that you’ve stolen. “You are?”

“Yes.” His head ducks down and you feel his lips brush against your hairline. “Never feel guilty for keeping yourself safe.”

“I… alright.” The last of your adrenaline drains from you as he puts your worries to rest. He won’t leave you. He’s still here. He’s proud of you. Your mouth opens in a yawn before you can cover it, and Jango’s chest vibrates beneath you as he hums in observation.

“You should rest now,  _ cyare _ . Your body needs to recover from the stress.”

You know he’s right, so you obligingly close your eyes and tighten your grip on the shirt covering his chest. “Will you stay?”

“Of course,” you hear him murmur as you begin to drift off. “For as long as you want.”


End file.
